Lady of Magic
Chapter Ten
The days after Merlin left with Gwaine, Roskin, and their two Culacian visitors were actually quite busy for Arthur. Normally he had time to himself every day to train, to go riding, to read, which was a habit he picked up ever since he became King. Usually, the busiest days of his life were when he had to entertain guests, and even then he tended to have mornings and evenings to himself.
This time, however, he barely had any time to wash his face and get dressed before work was piled in his office, and worked on one thing or other until it was time to go to bed. After breakfast he was discussing military commissions with his advisors, discussing law proposals, addressing the highway patrols that were overlooking the path to Beronat's walls, telling Pollux that no, he was not interested in courting Princess Rowan or Princess Iris or Lady Elata and who on earth was Lady Irimelle? Then came the looters and the bandits who were trying to sabotage the highway projects, and Arthur had to decide, twenty men for the northeast highway to Ealdor, get some more archers to the southern outpost, but the bandits might be spies and Arthur had to dictate long letters to neighboring kingdoms because 'I have some of your people, would you like to explain why they are sneaking around my lands?'
"You come up with good ideas," He complained to Lancelot, "Ones that, frankly, benefit others as much as you, and probably even more, depending on what their priorities are, and there will always be someone stupid enough to try to sabotage it. Really, what is the point of messing with building highways? I am starting off building in my own land, for crying out loud. That there is a nice entryway into Camelot for anyone who wants to invade, but instead of sensibly waiting for me to finish before they attack, they choose to do so before work is even under way. What is the point of that? Seriously, what is the point? All because they only see that Camelot is going to have flourishing trade, and by golly, they cannot let that happen even if this means their own trade improves as well. I seriously want to know what sort of seeds these rulers sprout from that can be so absolutely thick. I think next year I will send each of them a giant nutcracker. Something might actually get into their skulls then."
Lancelot was careful to keep his voice down as he snickered. Arthur had already been careful to complain where he would not be overheard; it would not do for his subjects to hear him talk about risking his own kingdom. Still, the knight's laughter might draw attention.
"You think Merlin has a cure for idiocy?" Lancelot whispered with an impish grin.
"Pfft. Of course not. She would have cured herself, if she did."
This time, Lancelot let out a full-blown laugh. "Still, would that all of our associates were as idiotic as Merlin!"
This got another round of laughs from both of them, and then Arthur had to go to court.
Four hours of meeting, two of which consisted of debates over semantics, and then it was time to look through letters. Once, he got one about a corrupt lord—Lord Seltor had been suspected of working in the black market, and one report finally turned up something that could allow Arthur to have him burned: three hundred slaves stuffed in a dungeon, starved and brutalized to be shipped for sale. The King gnashed his teeth at this and mused not for the first time that it was possible to be furiously happy. Or happily furious? He sent Lancelot with a team of knights to arrest the scoundrel.
"Use whatever force is necessary, but I'd like him brought here alive," He told Lancelot, "If you kill him at his castle, that would deprive me the pleasure of watching him die. The same goes for maiming, though obviously that order is much more lax."
"Understood, Sire," Lancelot saluted. He looked determined and eager, eyes cold and hard. No generosity for those like Lord Seltor...though not lord anymore. Like Arthur, Lancelot was outraged at the crimes—and absolutely delighted to exact justice. On Arthur's part, he found the act of giving the order almost as satisfying as kicking the man's door in himself. One word from him, and the man's lordship was no more.
Sometimes, it was good to be the King.
Every day, tax collection, crop yields, predictions and actual outcomes—he designated multiple tasks to Pollux and still found his hands full. One evening, he received a missive, Ah, Princess Lydeth of Desmirck was marrying Prince Elfkir of Casvil. A wedding invitation announced in a week's time. That actually meant that all this time, Elfkir and Lydeth had already been engaged, because there was no way the wedding could be so soon...unless something inappropriate happened. Arthur did not care much, one way or another, but he did rub the bridge of his nose at the thought of having to leave Camelot to dance with other kings.
Is there a way for me to get out of this? Not without a war on his doorstep. Off he was going—but first, reconstruction on the walls of the fort for maintenance purposes, supplying the disgruntled druids with herbal shipments, and really, Merlin should have been doing this, except Merlin was on her way to Culacia. Trade agreements with neighbors, missives to his vassals to push for updates, Crown Princes getting born, Crown Princesses getting born, Queens dying, lords dying, condolence letters, congratulatory letters, problems with tariffs, problems with trade routes, testing personalities through mildly provocative letters, getting tested—and this was actually one of the few times Arthur mused that it would be nice to have a Queen to share the work with. She could do all the boring tasks like running the castle and writing letters to people he did not care about. The trouble was, of course, that the stuff he found boring might bore her as well, and as many princesses as there were who were actually competent at these sort of things, there were just as many incompetent women, but sometimes there was never really a way to tell until after the wedding vows.
Sometimes, it was lousy to be the King.
The wedding was to take place in Casvil, which was a bit of a journey from Camelot. Casvil was a smaller kingdom than Camelot, and actually resembled Camelot during Uther's reign; unremarkable for the most part, with gilded, luxurious nobles. Elfkir was said to be sort of like his namesake, in that he was thin and tall like a reed. From accounts, Elfkir was a frail man with a passive nature and quiet demeanor. The King of Camelot had never met him before, sharing correspondence with only his father, King Dralkor.
Casvil was decorated for the wedding festivities, and Arthur was greeted as appropriate to his station. Elyan, Leon, and Percivil were with him, as were several foot soldiers who provided the escort. King Dralkor was present with the groom, and gripped Arthur's arm heartily when he arrived at the castle gate.
"Well met, Arthur-King!" The man exclaimed. He was jolly, but he was slender like his son and not warrior material at all. The man was, Arthur mused, probably a sorcerer, but he never used magic that anyone could point to.
"This is indeed a festive meeting, Your Majesty," Arthur returned.
"Yes, yes indeed! This is my son, Elfkir. Son, this is His Majesty the King of Camelot."
"An honor, Your Majesty," Elfkir bowed. He was what rumors made of him, Arthur found, though not entirely unattractive; just not warrior material. His hair was a dusty shade between gold and brown and gray, wispy like a cloud. Arthur gave him a nod; he was the senior in rank here, even though Elfkir was not much younger than him.
Elfkir had a younger sister, Princess Ethelyn, whose hair was as wispy as her brother's even though it was longer. She, too, was thin like a reed, and lacked much of the curves one tended to find in a woman. Her face was also bony, which made her look old. She was not exactly homely, but she was not comely either, and this must have troubled her greatly throughout her youth because she seemed to have a difficult time meeting Arthur's eyes. Her mother and Dralkor's wife, Queen Andarta, looked far more attractive than her daughter, but also a lot more plump than the rest of her family.
Desmirck was also present; King Dillon and his daughter, Princess Lydeth. The girl was quite pretty, with golden ringlets and emerald-green eyes. She carried a similar confidence within her that Morgana once had, and though she was far sweeter than Morgana ever was, this made Arthur doubly glad he was not the one marrying her.
"How is Her Majesty doing?" Arthur asked Dillon, "Queen Bellada?"
"Beside herself," Dillon chuckled, "You know how women are."
"Is she not coming to her own daughter's wedding?"
"Of course she is! Nothing can keep her from it. We expect her arrival in the morn."
"Very good! Would hardly be a wedding without her, after all. You are giving away a fine daughter, my friend."
"Indeed, that is so!"
Other kings and princes had arrived before Arthur and the King of Camelot had to greet them all before settling down for a meal to buffer the energy depleted from his journey. Since the wedding promised a great banquet, as such things required, the meal Arthur and the royal company was treated to consisted of rather simple dishes, though there was good wine and ale, and everyone was in good spirits.
"So when will we be toasting to your happily ever after, Arthur-King?"
"I pray to learn myself. Camelot has not allowed me a moment's rest since I took the scepter. Just recently I recruited a healer to my kingdom and it has been adventure after adventure." Sometimes, Arthur did not hesitate to use his friends to hide behind.
"Ah yes, the famous Healer Emrys. Word is that you are building highways for the woman." Murmurs of amused agreement.
"She was definitely an additional incentive."
"My knights once went to her clinic, I think it was two years ago. Heard she was quite the specimen. They could face dragons if need be, any manner of beasts, but they dare not cross Healer Emrys. She put them on bedrest for two days when they were there, something none of my court healers have ever succeeded in doing."
"Hoho! Good on her!"
"They said she was an odd-looking creature, though."
"How so?"
Arthur chewed, listening to the exchange.
"You know how sorcerers have that peculiar look to them? They said Healer Emrys did not even really look like a human."
This was said without malice, so Arthur chose not to take offense. "She is definitely human, though I will grant you, she does not lay claim to the traditional traits of beauty."
"Perhaps one day I might meet her myself." A subtle inquiry as to whether Healer Emrys worked exclusively for Camelot.
"Certainly," Arthur said readily, "Healer Emrys heals all who approach her. She is certainly not bound to Camelot, just because her clinic is there."
This sounded very agreeable to everyone, enough that no one remembered Arthur's marital status for the rest of the dinner. They did remember other things, like Uther's hate of mages. Arthur was as critical of his father's discrimination as anyone else, but he was frankly sick of hearing people talk about how Camelot had improved so much since his father's reign. Uther was not a bad king. Every king discriminated against someone, and Uther kept the poor fed, kept the nobles in check, kept the kingdom reasonably safe, which was far more than could be said for all these other mage-loving sovereigns. Saying so would be undiplomatic, however, so "I try my best to do what is right for my people," and "My Father had the best of intentions and had good reasons for his decisions and actions," and "Times change, and we shall see if my rule proves prosperous for Camelot".
"That was quite a dinner," He said to Percival later, careful not to reveal too much of his actual thoughts because a guest should not badmouth anyone in another's hospitality, especially if the host and other guests had servants who could eavesdrop. "So many old acquaintances," that I would not care to see again, "This wedding promises to be a spectacular one," In how long it is going to be.
"Indeed it is," Percival agreed, giving Arthur a knowing look.
He dreamed that he was at the wedding already, and Merlin was decked out in a white wedding gown. Even his subconscious brain could not imagine her dressed up like that, because Merlin's gown was blurry and unclear, and he could not seem to focus on it no matter how he tried. He soon forgot about it, because Merlin would not stop making fun of him and calling him a prat, and part of him that was still connected to reality mused that if Merlin did get married, it would be so like her not to let up on her King even on her wedding day. In the dream he was mostly annoyed with her, wishing she would stop listing all his flaws to all these other people and got on with her wedding, because weddings were long—the ceremony itself was boring, and then there was the reception afterwards, where Arthur was going to have to pretend he got along with whomever Merlin decided to marry—the groom changed multiple times throughout the dream, but Arthur seemed to dislike all of them. At one point she was marrying Elfkir, and Dralkor was slapping Arthur on the back, proclaiming, "Camelot had such a sour history with mages. Casvil was always friendly toward mages! And look, we got ourselves that same servant who kept risking her life to save yours. Now she can do it for my son instead!"
He woke up from the dream in a foul mood, then spent most of the morning wondering what on earth his mind was doing the previous night. He got to the point where he became more amused than anything else, and then realized the date. Merlin was scheduled to arrive in Culacia today.
That put him right back in the foul mood.
"So how long will you be staying, Arthur-King?" Asked King Adris of Avarok when the royal guests sat down to have breakfast together. Avarok was a large kingdom, almost larger than Camelot depending on how one calculated the area, but it was far away from Camelot and there was no sense in the two clashing, at least not for now. Adris also had the benefit of being a young king like Arthur and thus in the same boat when it came to marital affairs.
"I intend to leave the day after the wedding," Arthur replied over a mouthful of eggs, "I cannot afford to stay away from Camelot for too long. Too much to be done."
"I understand. I can just imagine all the paperwork piled up on my desk when I return."
"How long is the journey to Avarok, Adris-King?"
"About eight days." Adris looked rueful. "I intend to head first to Talthorn for a visit."
Princess Rowan. The young lady was brown-haired and small, with a round, doll-like face with large, doe-like eyes. Her skin was slightly lighter than Gwen's, and she was incredibly sharp, kind of like Merlin. The only problem with her that Arthur could see was that she was undeniably spoiled—she had enough charisma to mask it from most people, knew enough about superficial gestures to appear generous, but she was inherently selfish and uncompromising about her own ends. "I hear that it is quite beautiful there. You will enjoy it, I'm sure."
King Adris, though young, was at least as perceptive as Arthur. He did not really have Arthur's spine—he tended to let others walk over him a lot more than Arthur ever would, but the man was not a fool. Ultimately, his apparent "spinelessness" might even be a mark of greater patience. Arthur had always struggled with impulsiveness, so maybe Adris was actually the better king. "We shall see. Engagements of this nature tend to take the fun out of things."
"Don't I know it."
An older Prince, whose father was at home ill and who was already married, leaned over to them with a cheeky grin. He was in his thirties and had an eight-year-old son of his own, whom he did not bring with him. Arthur needed a moment to remember his name; Theodore, a rather cheerful fellow who was not the most responsible of individuals, but who had a good head on his shoulders and swung with a good arm. Arthur rather liked him from the past few correspondences.
"Don't tell me that none of these fine ladies appeal to you," He gestured at Arthur to the others. "It is not often that so many of the fairer sex grace us with their presence."
"Fairer sex grace us with their presence often enough," Adris snorted, "It is those of noble blood that keep away from us."
Prince Theodore laughed outright at this. "I will give you that. But still, if I were not married already, I would look at these fine maidens and think, 'lo, would I be fortunate to have any one of them by my side!'"
"Would that I have the time," Arthur groaned, and suddenly mused that his situation in the dream was also applicable to the bride in question. "Not to mention, any Queen I take would have to get use to Merlin."
"Healer Emrys?" A mischievous glint appeared in Theodore's eyes.
"Yes, women do seem to get along rather poorly with each other," Adrys observed.
"That is because they lack the strength to settle their differences in the courtyard," Theodore remarked in half-jesting tones, "Without a good brawl to let off steam, they sit and simmer and stew."
Arthur thought about Morgana and Gwen. "Nay, I doubt that is the case. Not to mention, if Merlin were to choose the courtyard as her place of settlement, I would likely have to find another Queen."
"Hahaha, hard to pull the blows with magic eh? But is she that temperamental?"
"She is the most powerful magician in the land," Adris mused, "Someone like her would not be too patient with a demanding Queen. You do have quite the conundrum on your hands, Arthur-King. Mind you, I am quite glad I am not the one wearing your crown. Camelot seems to be a shared target for all druids. It is actually quite baffling."
Arthur scowled at this. "Camelot deals well enough with the druids, and now that we have Healer Emrys within our walls, I expect the druids would be much more conservative."
"There is no question of that," Adris realized his error, "I merely meant that the issues Camelot deals with are far more complex than those of Avarok. Speaking of complex issues, how far do you intend to extend the highways?"
After breakfast, some of the ladies wished to go riding, and the men opted to join them for lack of better things to do. Arthur found himself alongside Queen Talia and her daughter, Princess Rosalind, a fair-haired girl with skin like alabaster and eyes like cobalt. They both rode side-saddle, and the mother rode in front while the daughter rode behind, both facing Arthur. In a group, this arrangement was actually not so uncomfortable, since they did not have to steer as carefully and could simply sit straight while facing him, but Arthur found his waist aching in sympathy. The last time he saw Merlin, she had been riding off to Culacia with one leg on each side of the horse. She was due to be there today. The thought made his mood plummet.
"It is such a gorgeous day today," The Queen exclaimed, "With any luck, the wedding day will be as sunny as today. Lydeth deserves that much; she is such a sweetheart. I remember my own wedding day. It was not as sunny, though thank goodness, it did not rain. I was a nervous wreck as it was, rain would have appeared far too ominous." She, too, asked about Arthur's highways, and remarked nonchalantly about Beronat's walls. Her own kingdom was rather far from Beronat, enough that Beronat's activities was not an immediate concern, but all capable leaders kept track of each other.
"If the Queen had still been alive," The older woman babbled, "Beronat would be a different place. I remember Bronwyn. She was an incredibly good woman, sensible and talented. Such a shame that her health was so poor. It was really King Eldwin's fault. His bride was already frail and expecting, and by some stroke of insanity he thinks sending her on a journey to her sister and his brother-in-law in Orlingoth was a good idea. Everyone knew the trip was what killed her. Women simply should not travel so much."
Rosalind remained quiet through all of this, and Arthur wondered if her mother talked so much at home that she drained everyone else of words. Talia was not a malicious woman, though; she was a simpleton, but rather harmless, and by and large Arthur would rather put up with her ramblings and gossip than most of the other company.
"I think Beronat is going to provoke Orlingoth," Talia shook her head, "Someone should make Eldwin step down before his loss of senses destroys his whole kingdom."
After talking with some mildly annoying but still tolerable fellow guests during the ride out, on the way back Arthur had to put up with the guests that were frankly intolerable.
"I must say, Your Majesty, the highways is just a brilliant plan. Truly, the King of Camelot is the wisest ruler in all of Albion. I think trade would become so much more convenient, all thanks to you, Arthur-King. It is an unbelievable honor to be in your presence, truly there has never been a greater King in history, nor will there ever be hereafter…"
"…I think if Riordan conquers Vaul, he should kill Veron and be done with it. I would much rather have Riordan rule both territories, wouldn't you say? Veron was a knave through and through, whatever his blood. He should be gutted and his organs burned before his eyes, and his wife should be taken that the harlot that she is, and his daughter as well, might as well get started now…" Veron's daughter was three years old.
"I remember them saying that Lady Morgana was such a beauty in her day, back when she was a ward of the late King Uther! How does it feel to have the woman you grew up with try to kill you all the time?"
Arthur retired to his quarters before the midday meal almost laughing at the absurdity of it all. "I should keep a record," He said to Percival, "'Insights into the inanities of Royalty.' It will record all the insipid remarks and actions made by Kings and Princes and Lords and their families."
"Your Majesty will have to reveal your own blunders in that case. It's only fair."
"I can recruit someone else to jot them down. You, for example."
"Oh, nay, Sire," Percival laughed and raised his hand in a shielding gesture, "I would not dare. Besides, words were never my best suit. We can recruit Gwaine; I think he would be especially amenable to the task."
"I do not trust Gwaine not to enhance certain aspects of the story for dramatic flair," Arthur rolled his eyes. "For his personal benefit, and the reverse of mine."
"Merlin will keep him in check," Percival said with a straight face.
Merlin. She was going to arrive in Culacia. Arthur's mood dipped yet again as he wondered if she was well—what if she became infected? What if Gwaine and Roskin did? He was not keen on any of them falling ill.
Percival was sometimes very perceptive too. "Sire, I am sure the healer is fine. She has doubtless encountered great many other ailments over the past five years. If she's managed on her own so far, I'm sure she can manage this now."
"I know. It is just frustrating that this time if she fails, I cannot send her to muck out the stables or polish my armor."
"I think she has enough incentive to succeed nonetheless, Your Majesty," Percival could not maintain his straight face anymore.
"She had better," Arthur grumbled.
In the next gathering, Arthur found himself being entertained by the ladies among the guests, though it was hard to tell whether they were doing the entertaining or he was. He was a little frustrated by how he could not seem to speak to a young maiden without there being some expectation of at the very least interest, and while he was interested it was impossible to gauge a personality when their behaviors were so skewed. Arthur was frankly tempted to one day dress up as a manservant and see if he could engage any princess that way. Maybe get Merlin to do a character analysis for him, since women tend to show different sides to them when they were among themselves. He can pose Merlin as a lady, and the thought made him nearly guffaw, though not for the same reasons it would five years ago. Five years ago Merlin was a bumbling idiot. Now she was probably more regal than any one of the real ones.
How would Merlin look anyhow? Not beautiful, to be sure; the healer could never be called beautiful, she was far too odd-looking for that—but striking, certainly, a creature of power and spirit, and—
"What do you think, Your Majesty?" Princess Rosalind was a little more talkative this time around, and she was holding up a figurine of a unicorn; it was obviously done by someone who had never seen one before. "I think it looks splendid."
Alright, critique of craftsmanship, not the worst thing I have had to do. "It looks very finely crafted, I must say." Slaying the unicorn was not something Arthur was especially proud of. It was not just because of the resulting curse on Camelot—that had all frankly ended well enough. It was more because he realized, looking back with wiser eyes, that he had come to be so proud of his warrior skills that he did not really care anymore what he was using them on, so long as he defeated something. He had not bothered to see if something was beautiful, and therefore could not distinguish beauty. Sometimes he thought about Morgana back in the old days when they were both young and carefree, and he wondered if part of the reason he lost her was because he failed to appreciate her too. He had thought her wit was vicious and she was always insulting him, even more so than Merlin because he could do nothing about it. Rather than embrace their sibling bond and take her jabs in the good humor that they were, usually he let his pride get the best of him. He found her irritating, smarting, and could not fathom how anyone, his father included, could love her so, and think her marriageable material.
"'Tis my good luck charm," Rosalind glanced down at her unicorn. It was made of wood and rather nice to the touch; Arthur could see why she brought it along with her. "I take it everywhere I go. I have never seen a real unicorn; should like to have one, if that is possible, but either way, this is the closest I can get to it."
Nobility, Arthur thought ruefully, had this obsession with owning everything. It took being with Gwen to make Arthur realize just how unattractive that tendency was. When they saw anything worth appreciating, the first thing most thought of was, Can I have it? Sometimes it extended to other people as well—girls, mostly, whose lives could be forever ruined by such possessiveness.
"Honestly," He said to the young lady, "I think that figurine would bring you more good luck than the actual creature."
This inspired a round of laughs, as everyone thought it was especially witty. Arthur laughed along with all of them, while mentally counting down the days to the day of the wedding. Next time someone had a wedding, he was going to pretend the messenger got lost.